Masquerade
by ChaserOfMornings
Summary: the characters of Repo! and the masks that make them! sucky summary but what am I to do?
1. The Mask of Innocence

Masquerade

Chapter One : The Mask of Innocence

A simple mask, a beautiful one at that. The pale, clear skin that glowed with youth and life yet hid the darkest of secrets. Those dark secrets that many lock away and don't let through. She wore the mask as her own face. A constant game of mixing truth with the lies to keep the one man in her life guessing.

Was it true what she said? Was it true she hadn't done what he suspected her of? Was she as innocent as the mask lead the people around her to believe? The mask hid Shilo Wallace well, for it was true, she snuck out, and then lied to the face of her father which was rippled and wrinkled with concern and fear. Shilo knew her lies and knew what she wasn't ought to do but how could she stop herself when the world outside called to her.

The mask told Shilo that it wasn't her fault, her father deserved his fate of constant worry and sickening stress, for he never showed her the world that teased her through her window. He was the one who taught her to hide, he was the one how first told her of lies and deceit. He was the one who made her mask.

_Thanks it you if you read this . . . I know, I know! It is short but this is just a quick little idea that popped into my head whilst I was sick in bed . . . the things to much DayQuil does to the brain! Haha . . . . Well please enjoy the rest of the story/stories! :)_

_~Adlie~_


	2. The Mask of a Monster

Masquerade

Chapter Two: The Mask of a Monster

The darkest mask, the one that can take the best gentleman and turn him into a lying, thieving, and murderous monster. That is exactly what it did. With its glowing eyes, and protected face, the mask can watch or commit a brutal murder without being touched by the ghastly crime. For the wearer of the mask is no longer himself, but a mere vessel for the power of the mask. Nathan Wallace had become much more than a vessel.

He had taken the mask to heart so that his real face became that of a stranger, his eyes no longer flinched when the stories of the killings on the street reached his ears. He no longer thought of the lives he took. They were a job that is all. They had no names, no families, no loved ones; they were a serial number printed on a repossession list.

The mask told Nathan it was all his fault and that he deserved his fate. He deserved every blood soaked street, he deserved every sleepless night, he deserved every single desperate scream, but most of all, he deserved the sick enjoyment he got with each life he took.

_Thanks for reading the second installment of this story! Do ya like it? If you do please give me a response or reply or whatever the things are called! ;) I will be added chapters quickly (hopefully) since they aren't too long! Enjoy and keep reading! :)_


	3. The Mask of Perfection

Masquerade

The Mask of Perfection

The mask of perfection was the thickest mask of all. In a world of pain, suffering and deaths this mask stood stoic. The emotions reading across the delicate features as a movie played onto a blank screen. No one saw what played upon the blank screen when the flashing lots stopped. No one knew of the pain and sadness that took over the beautiful features of Magdalene Defoe. Mag was perfection, or so she appeared. Never angry or sad, yet never passionate or excited; the human emotion had been removed from her equation. If her emotions played on her face as they do in her eyes the world would see nothing but the dull aching pain of solitude and slavery.

Nicknamed the Song Bird, she knew nothing of the freedom of flight nor the thrill of life. Behind masks she had remained though no longer by her own free will. It was Rotti. He made her mask and placed it on her face. He made the mold that held her to her fate. The mask of darkness held her first and kept her blind to the world now the mask of perfection held her in a death grip, a grip she so resented. Magdalene Defoe was dead behind her mask.


	4. The Mask of Fear

Masquerade

Chapter Four: The Mask of Fear

People sometimes say fear is the strongest emotion, stronger than anger or hatred, passion or love. Fear drove people to do things to become something they were not; the fear of rejection, the fear of the absence of love, the fear of death itself. Luigi Largo wore the mask of fear and with it became the master of death; he wielded it in his blade and brought it down on the innocent. What was a life, what did it matter, in his mind your either were the killer or you were killed. His father had drilled this into him, forged his mask with talk of greatness and grandeur. Power was everything and what greater power was there than that of death.

He controlled it yet his father still looked upon him with hatred and scorn, how he wished that knife, dripping crimson life, would take his own. His heart felt nothing but the fear. To him the warm blood spilt became a comforting blanket of power that whispered in his ear and praised his strength and glory. He was the master of life and death. What more did his father want? What more did his mask want?

_It's been forever, I had completely forgotten about this story until I was rummaging through my old documents. Well here is the next chapter for people who aren't so mad they don't want to read it. _

_~Adlie~_


	5. The Mask of Love

Masquerade

Chapter Five: The Mask of Love

Forgotten, neglected, and alone. Why did he deserve this? What had he done to deserve such hatred . . . no not hatred at all but disregard. No emotion had been given to him, he would take the painful sting of anger or the warm caresses of love over the emptiness of being forgotten. Why did those others deserve love? Why didn't he? Pavi Largo created his own love and wore it on his disfigured face with pride. The people would love him now, who couldn't love such a beautiful face? Stolen, though it may be, the mask he wore hid the shame and the emptiness he felt.

Pavi controlled love, he made people want him, desire him. How warm their bodies felt as they whispered their emotions into his ear, cooing and awing over him and his mask. The mask of love granted him what he had always wanted, emotions, but as the time swept by he was left with only one thought. Vanity. Love for himself, which was all he need now. His mask loved him and he loved his mask.


	6. The Mask of Change

The Mask of Change

A thin mask, nearly transparent, always trying to please, always trying to change to fit what was wanted. It shifted and formed itself into anything, blue eyes not green, and purple is the new thing today but tomorrow it's over. Blonde is so last week and then it's back again. She had worn a mask her entire life, each morning she slipped it on to hide the ugliness she saw in herself. "Would you change who you are if you could?" Wasn't that what he had whispered into her ear so many nights, it rang in her head until she ran to the surgeons in tears. Change me.

What she wanted they couldn't give her, she wanted perfection but that mask had been taken, and hers had slipped away, unable to cling to the dead beast that hides beneath; beneath the skin and they eyes, beneath the zydrate and the makeup, beneath herself. She used the drugs to forget the feeling of death beneath her skin, to forget the feeling of the creature she was swimming beneath the surface of her mask. Change Me.


	7. The Mask of Truth

Masquerade

Chapter 7: The Mask of Truth

The mask of truth was clear it showed the face underneath and allowed the wearer to see. He knew what he was, who he was and he knew exactly what he did. He blinded those who were too blind to see what was right before them; a world that fed from the rivers of blood coming from the blindness of those before them. This town ran on the stupidity of its citizens and their misplaced trust in the deliverance that had been promised to them. He took those cast out, a mere husk of human existence, and he filled them up with nothing at all. A false sense of peace and bliss and painlessness.

He was a grave-robber, no, not was; but is. His profession had become his identity, his work had become his life and his life was no more than a job. He knew the truth of this town and he fed it. This world had taken him in so quick and spat him out even faster; leaving him scrounging along the underbellies of a fallen society that held the shape of an empire. He saw what was underneath and accepted it for what it was. The truth; the truth that this life; this existence; was nothing. People were not humans, merely products filled with counterfeit lungs that allowed them to breathe in artificial air, fake hearts that propelled red water through plastic veins, and blind eyes that showed them a utopia that never subsisted.

_Just one more mask, hope you've enjoyed them. ~Adlie~ Also please review it fuels my disturbed - erhh, I mean creative thinking :)_


	8. The Mask of Death

Masquerade

Chapter 7: The Mask of Death

The mask that seemed to cover everything now a-days had been worn by one man for decades and its power had taken its toll. This mask smothered the life out of everything it could reach its fat little hands around. It squeezed the souls from the innocents, created monsters, mirrored perfection, inspired fear, feigned love, built change, and covered the truth in its horrendous grasp and now he had been caught by it. Rotti Largo had a fear of nothing except death, he had spent his life creating new ways to deceive death and now the day had come when his games had come to an anticlimactic end. What did he have to show for his work?

Maggots, each and every one of them squirming around waiting for him to save them, they screamed out his name and held him on high so that maybe, just maybe he might drop down the desperate salvation they all craved. Hardly salvation from sin, salvation from life itself; salvation from the plague of age and the destruction of emotions and reason life brought.

He gave them salvation but it was only temporary, the innocent, lured in by the perfection, warned by the fear, change and absence of love that surrounded their salvation, given the truth by those who could see the truth yet they still ran to the awaiting monster with high hopes and dream of a better life. It disgusted him until they day the mask consumed his heart and he saw life for what it truly was. Pointless.

_Thank you, thank you. So concludes our show, please exit the theater, dispose of all snacks and beverages on your way out the door. Thank you and come again ~Adlie~_


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